Saturday Morning Sunshine
by dauphinekathleen
Summary: While reading by the lake, Lily expects to spend the day alone, but of course Potter loves muddling her expectations. One-shot.


**Saturday Morning Sunshine**

* * *

It was the most beautiful Saturday morning Lily had seen over Hogwarts in a long time. It was late fall, and each gust of wind stirred up colorful leaves that had fallen from their trees. Lily Evans was walking around the lake, admiring the deep blues and greens, and watching the giant squid's tentacles create gentle waves in the water. Lily found a dry spot on the bank of the lake, not far from a tree she knew a certain someone liked to frequent, and took a seat, feeling content with her plan of action for the day: reading by the lake. She truly enjoyed the serenity that came from pouring into a good novel. Today she had brought along with her a Muggle classic: _Emma_.

Lily had eaten a quick breakfast before heading out, and a few others were waking up as she left. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, which meant that Lily would get more peace and quiet than ever, as most of the school would be spending their time in the little village on the outskirts of the school grounds. Lily smiled; this was going to be a good day indeed. She cracked open her book and began reading the first chapter, the sun gently rising into its high arc. Though she knew one could find quiet in the library, she could not resist the beautiful day that was dawning. The fresh air would do any student at Hogwarts good: being cramped up inside the old, moldy castle with scores of other students and house elves running rampant is enough to give anyone a nasty cold. Lily sighed peacefully, a smile on her face.

This was _perfect_.

The thought of someone interrupting her had never even crossed her mind. Who wouldn't want to spend the day at Hogsmeade with weather like this, especially since the cold, bitter winter was looming darkly ahead of them? She began contemplating why Mr. Knightley would fall in love with someone as deeply flawed as Emma Woodhouse, and Lily turned the page, completely consumed in the words of her novel. It did not take long for the sun to rise a bit higher. She was so engrossed in Jane Austen's vivid descriptions she didn't hear footsteps approach her.

"Evans?"

Lily jumped a little, shocked to see James Potter standing beside her, an amused smile on his face. Lily sighed—so much for alone time with her novel. She swept her long auburn hair to the other side of her head and huffed again.

"Potter? What are you doing up this early?" This seemed like the most natural question, as Potter and his friends were not known for being early risers. She realized an instant later that he had his trusty Quidditch broom in his right hand. They both looked at the broomstick and Lily shook her head. "Never mind."

"Mind if I sit?" he asked, his devilish grin nowhere to be seen. In fact, he seemed quite tired. He covered his mouth with his free hand as a yawn escaped, and then sat, Lily's response to his question notably absent. His hair, which was usually disheveled, was looking extra ruffled this morning. Not that Lily cared or anything. _Did he literally roll out of bed and leave the castle, broom in tow?_

Lily returned to the book without a word. For a while she felt his eyes on her, but she wasn't as bothered by it anymore. It was such a common occurrence, she thought, that she couldn't help but be used to it. Whether it was during class, at meals, or whilst sitting in the Common Room (as of late she had even noticed this occurring during their meetings with the Prefects), Potter's gaze was as normal to her as homework. The only thing out of the ordinary was Potter's lack of what Lily's friend Alice had colloquially termed "swagger." His greetings ordinarily involved a compliment or a not-so-subtle suggestion of a date, but this morning he was quiet. Almost too quiet. They sat this way for nearly five minutes—Lily reading, James watching her. Not a word. But then, he leaned back, stretched, and yawned again. He closed his eyes, as if letting the sun provide him with energy for the day.

Not long after he closed his eyes, Lily brought her eyes up from her book and looked him over. He appeared older than she remembered, as if everything he had experienced, every detention, every rejection, every failure was suddenly a part of him. Had he always been this solemn-looking, or was he just an expert at hiding his wounds? Lily had known for quite some time now that Potter had hazel eyes, but this morning in particular, when he opened his eyes, they seemed quite extraordinary. The sun was still low in morning sky, so it was dim enough to be able to look at, and he was looking right over the lake. It didn't occur to her to avert her eyes.

She felt the usual fire erupt in her chest._ He really is magnificent_.

That was when his eyes met hers, and the smallest, happiest smile she had ever seen crept over his lips… as if she had spoken those words aloud.

"What?" she muttered angrily, irritated by his smile. She turned to her book again.

"Nothing."

"You honestly don't have anything to say?"

"I honestly don't have anything _new_ to say."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" she asked.

"You're quite sick of what I've said to you these many years, are you not?"

"Oh, Potter," she said, exasperated, "Just go ahead. I know you want to."

"You are…." His voice faltered, which caught her attention. She met his gaze, which was filled with passionate conviction. "The most beautiful person I know."

What was this? He had never said _that_ to her before.

"I thought you didn't have anything new to say?"

"I've told you that before, haven't I?"

"Not to my knowledge, no."

"Oh. Right," he said, his hand going straight to his hair, though it didn't need help looking windswept this morning. His voice took on a wry tone. "I suppose I should have told you how I felt years ago, eh?"

Lily rolled her eyes. So much for her peace and quiet.

"If that's all you wanted to say…"

"If you want me to leave, you should say so."

"Please, Potter, go do what you got up early to do," she said, thinking of Quidditch.

"In that case, I will not be moving, as I got up early to spend time with you."

"Then why did you bring your broom?" she asked, feeling the beginnings of anger once more.

"In case you fancied a flight."

"Potter, you know too well that I do not like to fly."

"Alone, no. But I figured that you might enjoy it if you had someone to hold on to."

"Potter, I do not want to go flying, especially if it involves having to hold on to _you_."

"Evans, give it a shot. You might find it to be rather enjoyable," he said, looking sincere.

"I'm sure I won't," said Lily.

"You never know until you try," Potter said in a sing-song voice that caused her to hit him (almost playfully) with her book.

He was right, of course, but she was not about to tell him that. She tossed him a dismissive glare and opened her novel, attempting to ignore him, but Lily's mind's eye conjured up a picture of her holding onto Potter for dear life while he flew her over the castle, a bright grin on his face. Lily could feel her cheeks radiating in the early morning sun, and her entire body followed suit. The small fire that usually kindled in her chest was now spreading everywhere, as if it were out of control.

How was he affecting her like this? He wasn't even speaking to or looking at her. Lily took a few deep breaths, hopefully inconspicuously, and finally felt her body return to its normal body temperature. She had felt him look at her once during this process, but she persevered, knowing that other than a slight blush, he would have no way of knowing how she was feeling. It took her a while to realize that she had never ridden on a broom with someone else, as it was not the typical way to fly. The conflict raging within herself continued for a few minutes, and Potter sat there, daring to hope that time would change her mind.

She read all of one sentence.

"I wouldn't let you fall, you know."

"I would certainly hope not," she muttered.

"Is that a yes?"

"Of course not."

"Then _why_ would you say that? Evans, play fair."

"Since when have either of us played fair?"

At this, Potter laughed, so much so that he fell on his back and held his sides. Lily looked him over with eyebrows raised.

"Oh come on, Evans. You made a funny. You're supposed to laugh."

"I wasn't joking, Potter."

"Clearly," he said sitting up, a playful smile remaining. "But you're right. We don't play fair; we never have. In order to correct this egregious error, I feel that we should turn over a new petal, as they say, and begin playing fair as of this instant. I will ask you a question, and for once, you will say 'yes'."

"It's turn over a new _leaf_, Potter, and don't hold your breath."

"See, you aren't playing fair, Evans."

"I'm not playing _anything_, Potter! I don't play games, unlike you and your little friends."

"You know, I don't think Peter, Remus, and Sirius would appreciate you speaking of them so. How would Alice like it if I called her 'your little friend'?"

Rolling her eyes again, Lily opened her book. She was shocked to see that she had closed it once more while listening to him talk.

"You know, Evans, this might not be the most fantastic conversation I've ever had, but it's certainly our longest."

Lily stopped reading again. He was right. How did she manage that? Was he finally getting to her? She knew the answer was yes, but she wasn't about to let him know that. How would she get him to leave? She really wanted to read in peace and enjoy the morning sun.

"Speaking of Remus, where are he and Black? And Pettigrew?"

"Still sleeping, I reckon."

Lily nodded, but she had hoped the answer to her problem would be found in that question.

"Why aren't you going to Hogsmeade?"

"Why aren't _you_ going to Hogsmeade?"

"Because I had hoped to enjoy some autumn sunshine before winter set in, and I had hoped to do it alone."

"Why alone? Being with others is usually more enjoyable."

"For you, perhaps. I don't mind being alone. I don't need the attention."

Lily knew as soon as the words escaped her lips that she had erred—her words had made her skin burn as if she had scalded herself—and when she chanced a glance at him, the light had nearly gone out of his eyes. Potter was clearly more upset at her jab than usual.

"Potter—"

"No, I know," he said, smiling sadly. It fell flat within the moment. "I've never deserved you. I'm just an attention-seeking bully, a terrible toerag, a persistent, pitiful, parsimonious prat."

Lily couldn't help herself, she had to laugh at his skill with words. James was shocked to see her laughing.

"Come on, Potter. 'You made a funny. You're supposed to laugh'," she said, still laughing slightly.

She expected him to grin, laugh along with her, and make another joke. He didn't. There was no trace of a smile or laugh anywhere on his face. He stared across the lake, waiting for Lily to realize that she had truly hurt him.

"When did you become so poetic?" she asked, trying once again to see him smile. "Potter?"

"You still don't get it, do you? You still don't understand," he said, his throat thick. He stood and without thinking Lily stood as well. Wasn't this what she wanted? For him to leave? As he began walking away, Lily caught his arm.

"What don't I understand?"

"How I feel about you isn't a joke, Lily. You still think of me as I was at fifteen, don't you?"

Lily's lips parted, her eyes wide with something akin to horror.

"Don't you?" he asked again, his fists shaking. His broom was lying on the grass, all but forgotten.

"Potter..."

"Forget it. I'll leave you alone. I can't keep pretending like you haven't hurt me enough."

"Hurt you?" Lily asked, angry rising like bile. "Hurt you? Are you serious, Potter? You can't get angry about my rejecting you when you did nothing but ruthlessly tease and harass me for years on end! How am I supposed to ignore that?"

"People change, Evans! If you don't believe me, go ask Snivellus. He can give you a first-hand account."

"You always do this! You always bring up Severus, as if he's done something terrible to you!"

"He's done something terrible to everyone, Evans, especially you!" Lily stomped her foot, her hands curled into fists.

"I don't want to talk about him, Potter! We were talking about us, and then you went and brought him up, even though you know it does nothing but make me angry," said Lily.

This seemed to sober James, and he swallowed any retort. Lily supposed it was the use of the word "us," though she hadn't explicitly intended to mean it that way. They both took a few minutes to collect themselves, and James spoke first.

"I'm sorry for bringing him up. I suppose I should know better by now."

"Yes, you certainly should," said Lily firmly, her arms crossed over her chest. "You're not blameless in this, you know."

"Neither are you, Evans. Really. Do you know how many rejections I've taken from you?" Potter's tone was lighter, and she knew he had recovered.

"I stopped keeping count in fifth year," said Lily, a small smile on her face. She halfway turned away from him.

"My point exactly," said James, a similar smile gracing his lips. "It doesn't get easier, despite what people think. Last night, I didn't sleep a wink. I kept thinking... what if I'm wrong? What if she really doesn't care about me at all? What if... Merlin forbid... you were meant to be with someone else?"

His thoughts, spoken aloud, seemed to drain him of all energy. He sat next to his broom, his head in his hands. Perhaps he didn't want to see her reaction, or perhaps he didn't want to show her this side of him, the pained side. She wasn't sure. Lily hadn't ever seen James Potter look or feel vulnerable, and the image was humbling. This was a side of him she could not only relate to but understand. She kneeled next to him, pulled his hands away from his face, and hesitantly touched his face.

"James?"

"Yes?" he asked, his eyes revealing his pleasure at hearing her use his proper name.

"Sometimes, in life, we don't get what we want precisely when we want it."

"What are you saying, Lily?"

"I think you know what I'm trying to say, Potter," she said, sighing. The moment was over.

"No, no, I don't think I do. I think you should elaborate for me, especially while sitting this close and touching my face."

With that, Lily pulled her hand away and turned, a smile on her face. After retrieving her book, which she had carelessly left lying on the grass, she walked away. Potter was by her side a few moments later, broom in tow.

"What book is that?"

"What's it to you?"

"Believe it or not, Evans, I do _read_."

"Oh, really? And here I was thinking that you went into the past six years of exams with your fingers crossed."

Lily listened to him laugh—a sound that, despite having heard hundreds of thousands of times, she had never appreciated. It made her want to laugh along with him.

"Potter, why don't you go distract someone else?"

"Distracting? _Me?_ Oh, dear," he said, smirking. "Have you finally lost your ability to ignore me?" Lily didn't even want to consider his question. He would like the answer too much. "Have you finally realized what I've been telling you all along is actually true?"

Lily looked up at him, gave him an "_Oh, please, Potter_" look, and kept walking.

"You have. You've realized I'm right." The certainty in his voice made her feet halt. A few moments of silence between them passed. Lily could tell that he was looking at her. She felt the fire again.

"_You love me._"

If Lily had been in the Great Hall sipping on Pumpkin Juice, she would have spat it all over the table. Fortunately, she wasn't. She just stared at him, trying to look simultaneously mortally offended and disgusted.

"_What?_ Potter, you're delusional, as always," she said and began walking, though she realized too late that she was headed towards the Quidditch pitch. She just needed to be in motion. He stayed by her side.

"I don't understand why you're having such a hard time coming to grips with this, Evans. I'm not a bad guy, you know. We just discussed this."

"Except when you hex random people in corridors because you're _bored_," she said a bit too harshly. She felt her skin burn again. James stiffened and stopped her by tenderly grasping her elbow. It surprised her that, even in his anger, he could be gentle.

"You know damn well I've stopped that. Dumbledore didn't choose me to be Head Boy for nothing, Evans."

Lily stopped and looked at him, straight in the eyes. A moment later she was regretting it, because the look in his eyes made her knees weak, and he seemed to know it. She felt the fire again. He also seemed to know that she was having a hard time moving, so he took a step closer, closing the distance between them. The early-morning sunlight, the smell of fall, and the rustle of leaves made everything seem so much more intense and the next thing she knew—he was standing well within kissing distance, tucking a piece of auburn hair behind her ear. His hand remained on her cheek.

"You know I'm right," he said in a low, intimate voice that she'd never heard, "_You love me_."

"You're... wrong," she said. She was panicking internally, the flames licking her lungs. How could he not see it?

"You want me to kiss you."

"You're… wr-wrong."

A slight breeze moved past them, and Lily felt the clash of warm and cool.

"You're lying," he said, moving his face closer to hers.


End file.
